


rolls off the tongue

by MaruruShipsIt



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV), The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: Anyway I've never published a fic on ao3 before oof, F/M, First Meetings, Pre-Canon, This prompt just jumped out at me and I fell in love at first sight, tumblr is my safe space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 10:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25349305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaruruShipsIt/pseuds/MaruruShipsIt
Summary: “The Mercian recalls what her father told her only the day before, with a stern pinch in his brow.“My dear, this union is for the good of Mercia. You will marry Lord Alfred and do your duty to your country. If God is good, he will be a good husband to you. If God has no mercy, then…”Then she must be a good wife.”In which Aelswith and Alfred meet for the first time, discuss the reality of dreams, and come to an understanding.
Relationships: Aelswith (The Last Kingdom)/Alfred the Great
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13
Collections: The Last Kingdom Fanfic Fest





	rolls off the tongue

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt filled for "Pairings, 1. Aelswith/Alfred, first meeting" in the 2020 TLK Fanfic Fest hosted at @tlkfanficfest on tumblr.

“You may call me Lord Alfred, or ‘my Lord’ if you prefer.” Aelswith’s betrothed nods gravely at her, face neutral and betraying nothing. It frustrates her to be faced with such unyielding ambivalence; pray, what does he think of her?

The Mercian recalls what her father told her only the day before, with a stern pinch in his brow.

_“My dear, this union is for the good of Mercia. You will marry Lord Alfred and do your duty to your country. If God is good, he will be a good husband to you. If God has no mercy, then…”_

Then she must be a good wife.

Alfred lifts his hand in a dismissive gesture. The rest of the room’s occupants bow their heads respectfully before retreating through the door and leaving it closed.

Aelswith dips low before him with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Lord Alfred does not sound very well, she decides. There is something about the way it rolls off the tongue that she does not like.

Her eyes roam over his person as she contemplates the man before her. Lord Alfred is of a height with her father, though the former’s physique is slight and almost gaunt whereas her father is large of girth. He has a boyish face, pale skin and blotches of red on his cheeks, but his eyes are weary for all his nineteen years. He cannot be a boy with eyes like those.

It twists her good Christian heart to see such eyes.

“We are alone now,” he says, breaking the silence that has settled. When he speaks, his voice is soft, quiet, but it is not from timidity. He has the look of a thoughtful man, one who thinks before he speaks and weighs his words with care not to say the wrong thing. “Speak.”

What does he expect her to say? Aelswith had determined to play the part of a dutiful wife with all the grace of a woman of her station, but now that she is facing the man her life will be spent beside, her throat is dry and devoid of words.

“Wessex has been quite welcoming,” she eventually manages, twining her fingers together at her belly as she glances down demurely. He would have expected her to say that — she is doing her duty thus far. “It is a country that I can see myself at home in some time in the future.”

Alfred inclines his head, acknowledging the compliment for what it is worth. She waits for him to say more. It is not the Lady’s place to address a man. He studies her intently, gaze traveling probingly over her person as though he can discern her every thought. It intimidates her.

You are a Christian?” Alfred inquires, eyes alighting upon the cross round her neck. Light glimmers in his eyes where before there was fog and mist. Aelswith smiles more genuinely this time, for her faith is her greatest pride.

“All good people are called by God to be Christian, my Lord,” she says piously. Alfred returns her smile with a ghost of his own.

“That is correct,” he says, and Aelswith warms to him. A Christian husband will be a good husband. 

The shroud of silence that separates them before returns, and Aelswith wishes to banish it. Her eyes roam about the room in search of something to focus upon, eventually landing upon the scrolls on the table. Curiosity arises.

Alfred’s eyes follow hers and he brushes his fingertips over them reverently. “They are manuscripts,” he says by way of explanation. Aelswith had understood that much. He continues, “The history of Wessex is written within them — history my brother writes, that I write.”

“History, my Lord?” Aelswith asks.

“History that we make.” Alfred’s face is serious now. “The Word of God is remembered and practised centuries after His life. To write oneself into history is to live forever within these pages. People will know of my brother and they will know of me.”

His words carry the weight of a crown now, the Lady thinks.

Alfred steps around the table to her side and their eyes meet, a storm of blue to earthen brown.

“Do you dream, Aelswith?” he asks seriously. Before she can respond, he resumes speaking.

“I dream of England,” Alfred says, “Wessex will one day become England, and when it happens, I will write the birth of England into this chronicle. It will be remembered.”

She believes him.

“One day I will rule, and it will be my duty to unite the kingdoms under a single God. This union is the first step to that dream,” he murmurs.

“Then I will share that dream with you,” she whispers. She is called as his wife-to-be to support him in all matters, to be his constant companion and salvation, but it would not be a hardship to see such a dream as Alfred’s realized. It is a lofty, noble dream, one that seems too large for his thin shoulders. Aelswith will offer her shoulder too and carry the burden.

She tilts her head to his, parting her lips in a silent invitation. His eyes flicker to them, gleaming with intent. It makes her belly twists with an unfamiliar want.

Their noses brush together in a tentative kiss, lips grazing light as feathers, and Aelswith’s firm and unyielding heart wavers. Alfred has the look of a priest, but he captures her mouth in his with a prince’s confidence.

She breathes hot into his mouth and his hands grasp at her shoulders, pulling her closer as he deepens the kiss with a fervor she had not expected of him. It steals all the air from her lungs and Aelswith has to pull away in order to breathe. Alfred gasps as she breaks the kiss and he stares at her, eyes brightening as though he is seeing her through new eyes. Aelswith feels rather the same.

His hand reaches for hers and he twines their fingers together. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles at her and Aelswith’s lips curve upward into a smile of her own.

“One day you will be queen,” Alfred says with conviction, squeezing her hand. “Queen of Wessex and later, Queen of England.” She likes the sound of that. “I would have you by my side,” he adds. She likes the sound of that even better.

“Yes, my Lord,” is all Aelswith can say, though inside her are many words that she could have said. He releases her palm from his grasp and Aelswith hopes to hold it again the next time.

Alfred dismisses her with another one of his crinkling smiles instead of a wave of the hand. Aelswith bows her head dutifully before closing the door to allow him his privacy.

As she departs from her betrothed’s writing room, Aelswith allows herself one last private smile.

Lord Alfred may not roll so pleasingly off the tongue, but perhaps the title of King would suit — _King Alfred,_ though, now that sounded well.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was actually a day late for the fanfic fest, I thought the deadline was July 6 and not July 5. Oops. Anyway, I was originally going to let a friend of mine fill this prompt because I was too lazy and afraid to write it myself, but at the last moment I pulled my head out of my ass and did it. I'm pretty glad I did since I feel like I've actually achieved something for once in my life, lol.
> 
> This was cross-posted on tumblr @marv-llous and also on the For Wessex (TLK Fandom) discord.


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